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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28512369">Rosemary Carrion</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkB0y22/pseuds/SharkB0y22'>SharkB0y22</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural, The Bright Sessions (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F, F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 19:21:51</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,728</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28512369</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharkB0y22/pseuds/SharkB0y22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>This has nothing to do with The Bright Sessions or Supernatural. It’s an original work. Actually, a series. It’s about a coroner named Rosemary Carrion, who solves mysteries relating to the supernatural and strange!</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Creature of the Night        Part 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/AVAcado26/gifts">AVAcado26</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hi! Please comment and give kudos! This is a wonderful and original tale for all to enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The Creature crept through the dark fog. It hung low in the forest that crept on the border of the town. The harsh winds howling through the beaming moon. Bright light shining through. </p><p>It continued its stalking. Creeping through the woods, on all fours. The arms are much longer than the legs. Tendrils and spines stick out of the spine. Equidistant from each other, they twist and bend in the wind. It growls with a low guttural noise. It has no eyes, just empty sockets. Empty holes of blackness. </p><p>The deer stood in great pride. It’s antlers basking the warm glow of the moon. The fog broke around the small brook. It bent its neck down. The bristling in cool breeze. The Creature struck. And an arrow flew. </p><p>…</p><p>“What the fuck do you want,” Rosemary said as she rolled out of bed. Turning and shaking her red hair.?</p><p>“We need you to ME a body…” the woman on the other end of the line replied. </p><p>“ME, is a job. Not a fucking verb. Have Dixton text me the info.” Rosemary replied. Sharp. Firm. She didn’t like dealing with shit. </p><p>“Yes ma’am.” The operator replied. The line died. She sighed and rolled out of bed. </p><p>She grabbed the bottle of Zoloft on the way out. Breathe. She told herself. She never stopped for a breathe. Took too long. She had shit to do. </p><p>…</p><p>She arrived at the crime scene, the sun was still hiding behind the cold, dark clouds. She didn’t like that. She wanted the sun. It would make the cold, misery slightly more bearable. </p><p>She looked at the body. It’s dark, gray skin filled with black and purples veins. It didn’t look human. The other officers at the scene were clearly scared. A singular arrow had gone through its head. Brain matter was spattered on the regions. It’s neck was also garotted. This was unusual. Nonetheless, she continued. </p><p>She dumped her coffee on a small plant. She put gloves on and grabbed the head. She held it in the glare of the rising sun. An officer threw up in a bush. She chuckled. It was going to be a good fucking day. </p><p>“Bring it to the morgue. I’ll assess there…” she said and walked off. Back to home. To the cold stone slab awaiting her.</p><p>“Oh, have Simon, come in today.” She called out, still walking. She wanted her very gay and very thorough intern at her side. Both were necessary qualities when working with Rosemary Carrion. </p><p>…</p><p>Her smock laid in a crumpled mess over her trench coat and pants. Her red hair, tied in a messy ponytail. Another figure was wrapped around her own. The lips on her neck were well known. Comforting. She grinned. She tilted her head back and kissed the figure’s kind face. It was warm. </p><p>“WHY MS. CARRION, I THOUGHT THIS WAS A PROFESSIONAL WORKPLACE!” Simon said sarcastically as he entered the room. </p><p>“Fuck off.” Rosemary said, “See you later. I know you’ve got writings to do. Bly Wolf, reporting on bullshit!” </p><p>“Hey!” </p><p>“Love you…” </p><p>“Love you too.” Rosemary said as Bly left the room. </p><p>She shifted and grabbed her surgical tools. The took the head and began extracting organs and starting the procedure for a brain biopsy. </p><p>“Can you do a Y-section and weigh the organs of the victim,” Carrion asked. Suddenly professional. She had a switch most didn’t. </p><p>“Yeah.” Simon replied, already prepping several trays and surgical instruments. </p><p>“What the hell do you think this is?” Carrion muttered. </p><p>“Well I… You don’t normally allow for speculation in the workplace. Especially in our field,”</p><p>“This is not our usual case!”</p><p>“True. I would say probably a shadow monger. The legends of the town have said-“ </p><p>“Simon. Shut the fuck up.” </p><p>“Yes, ma’am.” He said and resumed his work. He took a breath in and out. She didn’t mean it. Her sister was killed. Killed by one of them, so it’s not me. It’s her. </p><p>These thoughts rushed through him. </p><p>Carrion worked. Extracting DNA and brain matter from the decapitated head. She weighed it. 5.89 kilograms. Interesting. </p><p>Shadow monger. Fucking shadow monger. It wouldn’t stop coming back to her. She threw the head down. Walked out of the building. The cold, harsh wind was refreshing compared to the sterile, sanitized oxygen that lurked in the morgue. She took a breath. Damnit! She couldn’t cry. Not today. She had shut to do. GET IT TOGETHER! She screamed in her head. The noise pounding against her ears. She slumped down against the guard rails. Damnit! She failed. She cried. It was hard. She wanted to just sit there and die. But she couldn’t. She remembered Bly’s warm kisses, but they were tainted with images of Bly’s death. DAMNIT! She was still failing. She took in a breath and stood. She could work. Suffocating or not, she could work. </p><p>…</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Creature of The Night: Part 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part two of Chapter 1, Rosemary unearths new pain and murder!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Rosemary and Bly!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hand me the forceps, and weigh the brain after you excess the cranial sutures…” Rosemary said as she removed her gloves, the warm latex sprinkling across the room in aerosol form. </p><p>“If I come back and you’re not done then-“ </p><p>“I’m fucked. I know the rules,” Simon said as he took the surgical scissors to the sutures along the scalp of the dark, shadowy creature. </p><p>Rosemary removed her smock and folded it. Simon cut the final suture and the scalp fell open. The brain, a black, moldy mass, continued to pulse with the rhythms of the color-changing nerves. Then it burst. Into a series of dark, gray mist. The foam into Simon’s nose. He collapsed. Rosemary screamed, grabbing the mask on the table. She slipped on some blood on the floor and fell. Hitting her head on the cold, tile floor. She hit the quarantine button. The metal doors slammed down. The siren blared. </p><p>These damn creatures made sure to ruin her fucking life. She wouldn’t let them claim her friend. She crawled across the floor. It is covered in bodily fluids and dirt. She arrived at Simon’s collapsed body. He was still breathing, that was a good sign. </p><p>“FUCK! Somebody help me!”</p><p>“ROSEMARY!!! What’s going on?” Dixon called, the police officer in charge of the scientific department. </p><p>“Shadow-monger!!! During the autopsy it blew!”</p><p>“The fuck?” </p><p>“It released a gas..” </p><p>“Is anyone hurt? Who do I need to call?” Dixon screamed! </p><p>“Simon’s down. Call the ambulance for unknown toxin. And prep the hazmat and unknown bio-hazard unit!” </p><p>“Already on it!” Dixon screamed! </p><p>“Are you okay, Rosemary, are YOU okay?”</p><p>“Never.” She replied. She pulled out her phone and dialed Bly’s number. It went to voicemail. Shit. She opened text, “Fuck,” was all she could manage before she succumbed to unconsciousness. </p><p>…</p><p>The sun shone through the window of the hospital. Rosemary’s sharp eyes glared against the harsh fluorescent lighting. Bly sat by her bedside, her computer at her side. She was typing, like always. Fuck she looked cute in those glasses. She grinned. Rosemary Carrion and Bly Wolf. She wanted to kiss her. She couldn’t move. She was tied down by the weight of the unknown toxin. </p><p>“ROSEMARY!!! Oh, thank for you’re up! I was so scared. I thought you might have been-“ </p><p>“I-“ </p><p>“Shhhh!!! Don’t talk, just rest. I’ll be right here.” </p><p>Bly grinned and put her hand on Rosemary’s. She went away, back to the dream-state of sleep. She was tired. Maybe, this counted as disability. Workman’s comp? This was too much. Sleep. </p><p>…</p><p>Rosemary stood over the body of the shadow-monger. She would find who did this and applaud them. She took the file and labeled it as “accidental death” and turned to the body. She dug her fingers into its neck. </p><p>She put the file away, draped a cloth over the thing; it didn’t deserve a name or any identifying features. She sent it to cremation. </p><p>She had the gauge of the gun used to shoot the thing. She had the ballistics comparison. Now it was time to pay a visit to the killer. Her father. </p><p>…</p><p>She saw the cabin in the distance. It looked surprisingly good. Rustic, and old. “Character” as a real estate agent would say. She knew it was well-cared for and clean. Clean until you turn on a black-light. Then you couldn’t unsee the blood. “Avid hunter” he was called. “Hermit” she called him. </p><p>She walked up to the front porch and knocked the creaky wooden door. It was open. No locks, as she suspected. Rosemary continued in. She examined the house, all interconnected. No doors. She found this strange, but her father was strange. She was strange. It ran in the family. </p><p>She walked and sat on the couch. </p><p>“Hello father,” she said, without turning and looking at the figure in the doorway. </p><p>“Rosie” </p><p>“Father.”</p><p>“I know what you did.”</p><p>“When?”</p><p>“You killed the shadow-monger.”</p><p>“Yes. Are you here to arrest me or do whatever shit you do!”</p><p>“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”</p><p>“Rosie.”</p><p>“I just wanted to say congratulations on killing that thing.” </p><p>“I love you, Rosie. </p><p>“Sure.” </p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” Rosemary said as she walked out. </p><p>Case closed. Maybe. She was ready for the next one. Good thing she lived in the worlds weirdest fucking city.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Glitching Man</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A new case. A side of Rosemary! A new world. A new villain!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey! Leave Kudos and comments!!!! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Rosemary moved, twisting in her bed. Desperately avoiding waking Bly. She loved watching her sleep. Her soft eyes closed, the little strips of light peering in through the blinds. The fly-aways and tangles of brown hair falling over her face. Her cute glasses sat on the bedside table. A fantasy novel on her chest, resting on the large fluffy blanket. She had stayed awake late again, reading. She was always reading. Rosemary loved it. She loved her. She leaned over and kissed her forehead. Bly looked beautiful, like always. </p><p>Rosemary slipped out of bed, the long, lavender nightgown sweeping around here. Spinning like a ballroom dress. She looked like a princess. Except princesses didn’t handle the dead. And princesses didn’t hide knives in their dresses. </p><p>She slipped into her closet and quietly closed the door. She didn’t want to wake Bly. She slipped the nightgown off. The knife strapped to her thigh gleaning in the harsh light of the Edison bulb. Her uncovered skin shining against the cold tile under her feet. </p><p>She slid the jeans on and grabbed a blue top. She lifted it on and opened the door. And there was Bly’s soft face. She leaned in. </p><p>…</p><p>Rosemary walked out of her house and tripped on a package. </p><p>“The fuck!” She cried and she stood. </p><p>“Bly! What did you order this time?” She cried out. </p><p>“What,” Bly asked, exiting the house, “I didn’t order anything.” </p><p>“I didn’t!”</p><p>“It’s addressed to you, shithead,” Bly said, picking up the package. She set it down and walked inside,” I need to get dressed, I have a meeting today!” </p><p>Rosemary turned and opened the package and all see saw was a note that read, “I caught the glitching man- The Haxoid.” The note was hovering in the box. Rosemary was puzzled. Until it happened. A severed hand glitched into view. The blood and remains scattered along the cardboard. It really was a glitching man. </p><p>…</p><p>Rosemary stepped into the examination room. The white smock draped over her blue top and jeans. Slight blood spatter still visible on the opaque surface. She had her hair tied back today in a high ponytail. Simon sat at the other end of the room on a rotating stool. He was currently logging data into the computer. There on the table sat the glitching man. Flickering it and out of view occasionally. Five packages had been delivered to influential people across the city. Together the made the glitching man. The glitching man was missing a head though. </p><p>“How do we do an autopsy on something we can’t even see?” Simon called. </p><p>“We are going to have to use an infrared spectrometer,” Rosemary said, prepping the x-ray machine. </p><p>“Essentially a repeating x-ray to get a constant view of the subject?” Simon asked. </p><p>“Fuck! The radiation! FUCK!”</p><p>“Your right, we’re screwed. We can’t do a repeating x-ray.” </p><p>“We just have to get it to vibrate on a non-lethal wavelength. FUCK!”</p><p> </p><p>…</p><p>Rosemary was genius like always and used an alternating vibration platform to make the “glitching man” visible. It was time for the autopsy. </p><p>...</p><p>She had cut the man up. His veins bled thick, viscous black blood all over her examination room. She took several cell samples for further examination. His cells appeared to burst and die and regenerate in an instant. He must have been in so much pain. </p><p>She finished the autopsy and closed him up. She found no cause of death which meant it was related to his head. Which was still missing. FUCK! Where was it? And who was it going to be delivered to. </p><p>She needed a walk. She exited the building. Striding up and down the cold, wooden boardwalk. The light of the lampposts sends glares across her irises. The stars were dim and few. Fucking light pollution. </p><p>She knew what she had to do. She climbed aboard the small kayak she hid under the boardwalk and paddled out to sea. The cold, salty breeze spilling over her. The lapping waves licking the sides of her kayak. The breaking silhouettes of animals in the bay.</p><p>The stars. Oh the stars. Shining bright and huge and beautiful. Dazzling. Dancing across the sky. Twinkling. Beauty. That’s beauty. Not roses or pretty girls. No the endless infinity of space. She wished Bly were with her. Bly was infinity. Bly was beauty. </p><p>Bly texted</p><p>That’s when she got the text. It was three words. </p><p>Come. Home. Now. </p><p>…</p><p>By the time she arrived the Police and Simon were there. Bly was sitting in a corner crying. Bly had come home and found the head, sitting in the middle of their master bed. Glitching in and out of view. “Haxoid,” this KILLER went and wrote on the walls in blood. “I can see you, Dr.Carrion.”</p><p>Damnit! She should’ve been here! She should’ve been close and with Bly. She should have seen this coming. If only she were better. DAMNIT! FUCK! She was terrible! She was horrible! She should have been a better girlfriend. She should have been there! ROSEMARY YOU ARE A FUCKING MONSTER! </p><p>Her head screamed at her. Bly saw her. Her tortured face. She walked up and kissed her forehead. Lifting Rosemary’s chin with her gentle hands. They kissed. Everything might actually be ok. </p><p>…</p><p>It was back in the autopsy room where she found the lead bullet in his brain. </p><p>“Simon! Hand me the scissors, clamps, and the tweezers,” Rosemary called out, leaning over the head. </p><p>“Yes ma’am.”</p><p>“Thank you,”</p><p>“I’m sorry about what happened. With Bly, I mean. I know in this-“ he started. </p><p>“No. It’s fine. We are fine. No one is hurt.”</p><p>“Are you okay?”</p><p>“WHY DOES EVERYONE FUCKING ASK ME IF I AM OK?!? CLEARLY I’M NOT, SO GO TO HELL!” She screamed and slammed her tweezers down. The bullet in its grasp. </p><p>“I’m gonna go home,” Simon said, grabbing her jacket and leaving. </p><p>“FUCK!” She screamed. </p><p>Then she saw it. The volcanized rubber in the throat. She knew where the Haxoid was. And she was going to kill the bitch. </p><p>…</p><p>She walked into the abandoned tire factory. The chains and conveyor belts all around. She saw the table in the center of the room covered in blood. She approached. </p><p>The bummer hit the table and the blood spattered. Rosemary screamed as she ducked and rolled behind some old manufacturing equipment. </p><p>A figure jumped out of hiding and stood. Covered in armor and a mask hiding his identity. A series of guns attached to his body. One in his hand. </p><p>“What do I do?” Rosemary panicked. </p><p>She stood. </p><p>That was stupid. He aimed at her. A shot rang out. She saw the blood pool. It was coming from the Haxoid. His upper right arm had a gunshot wound. As he collapsed to one knee, she saw Bly standing on the upper staircase holding a small black pistol. Bly saved her. Bly had vasovagal syndrome. Her eyelids started to close and she fainted from the blood. She tumbled over the railing. Rosemary ran and caught her. Holding her in her arms. </p><p>She turned and looked. The Haxoid was gone. But it was ok. Bly was safe. And after all, Bly was infinity. </p><p>Bly was beauty.</p>
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